One of the questions I asked in marriage group this fall was about miracles. Such topics do not often surface at social gatherings. Yet I find it to be an even richer way to connect than say, "How was your commute today?" 

 

As if often the case, the room goes quiet. I am, after all, looking behind doors that traditionally stay closed. Some take effort simply to creak open. 

 

"Well there was the time I tried to run away from home. I was about sixteen, and climbed on my bike with a few possessions. I didn't really know where I was headed, but that didn't stop me from pedalling. Then my bike seat fell off. I mean, just came apart. There was no way to keep riding, so I walked it back home. That never happened before or since. So I guess it was a miracle."

 

The speaker seemed to not have quite seen it that way before, and was as surprised as those of us listening. 

 

Another person recalled a time she took an Uber to get a car battery, having almost no idea about what brand to choose. The Uber driver offered to come into the store to help. He figured out which one to buy, and then drove her home. But he didn't stop there. He asked if she knew how to install it, which she admitted she didn't. He drove home to get the right tools, and returned in a few minutes to remove the old one, which was particularly stuck, and installed the new battery. She was amazed by his generosity. 

 

Some might say that it was simply the kindness of a stranger, rather than a miracle. But how else do most wonders come to life?